


The Temptation He Faces

by MissSynph (Synph)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/MissSynph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it." -- Oscar Wilde</p><p>Bruce’s “look but don’t touch” approach to Dick leaves something to be desired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Temptation He Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Bruce/Dick Fest with [Jill](birdbitch.tumblr.com) looking over the characterization and [Angie](welcometodelphi.tumblr.com) doing grammar check and coming up with the title when my mind drew a blank.

 

> " _The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it._ " -- Oscar Wilde

When Dick walks out of the communal showers in the cave after an intense night of patrol, Bruce makes a show of not looking at the other man or tearing his gaze away from the papers scattered in front of his workstation.

Bruce makes a point of staring down at the reports that he’s supposed to be looking over, staring at the sheets of paper until the letters all run together and Bruce can’t remain certain that he’s actually  _reading_ anything on the papers in front of him.

Working --or pretending to work when the original endeavor fails-- means that Bruce has something to focus on instead of the slapping sound of wet footsteps on the cave floor. It means that Bruce can look at the papers and seem invested in talk of crime when he’s really rather focused on the mental image of Dick’s sleek body because Bruce can’t content himself with just looking--

“I swear I had a spare set of shorts in my bag,” Dick says into the overbearing almost-silence of the cave. He sounds frustrated, but not frustrated enough for Bruce to actually look at him and risk being caught staring. “Crap! Don’t tell me I left my bag--” Dick cuts himself off and then a second later, Bruce hears the sound of a gusty sigh slipping out from between Dick’s lips. “Bruce? Are you listening to me, Bruce?”

There is no way that Bruce can pretend at ignorance. The cave is large --very large-- but it’s still not large enough for Bruce to sit a few yards away from Dick and ignore him.

He looks up from the stack of papers in front of him, finding Dick’s form easily as though the tie between them is magnetic and almost instantly, he feels blood rush to his face. Bruce closes his eyes, but it’s already too late for him. The picture of Dick’s mostly naked body winds up seeming etched into his eyes to the point where Bruce can remember the exact placement of the droplets of water making their way down Dick’s scarred chest to the knotted up towel around his trim waist.

“What do you need, Dick?” Bruce finds himself asking even though the words feel as though they are stuck in his throat. “I don’t know where your bag is, but there are extra clothes in the lockers. If not in yours, then look in mine.”

Bruce doesn’t mean to be so brusque with Dick, nor does he mean to turn away from Dick and return to his papers without another word. However, Bruce has spent too long imagining moments like these, scenarios where Dick is open and eager, where Bruce can watch his clothes hang loose on Dick’s lean body and know that he’s staked his claim.

Sadly, predictably, Bruce soon loses his train of thought due to the seeming personification of his desire standing so very close to him.

When Dick snaps his fingers no more than two inches away from the tip of Bruce’s nose, Bruce does not flinch. He does however; roll his eyes up at Dick with one eyebrow arched in a question.

“Did you forget the combination for my locker?” Bruce asks, feeling himself starting to scowl at Dick even though he wants to rub the tiny frown lines that furrow the skin at his brow where it peeks through the damp strands of the other man’s dark hair. “It’s--”

Dick silences Bruce with a wave of one hand and then leans on the table where Bruce’s papers lay spread out, towel-clad body a few inches away from the papers that Bruce has given up on going through. He starts tapping his long fingers against the top of the table to some rhythm that only makes sense in his head.

“You won’t look at me, Bruce,” Dick points out as though they are talking about the weather or something boring, normal, and not at all related to the way that water looks as it trickles down the pale golden surface of Dick’s skin. “You’ve been weird all night, but this is ridiculous. You’ve seen me naked before, so what’s the problem now?”

Bruce tries.

He really does try.

He opens his mouth to say that he’s respecting Dicks boundaries or that he doesn’t want to be rude but then the words vanish off the tip of his tongue, leaving him staring up at Dick and feeling the reminder of his ceaseless hunger gnawing at his chest. This close, Bruce can smell the spicy scent of whatever body wash it is that Dick keeps in the cave. When he inhales through his nose, the smell of Dick’s skin overlaid with that soap makes Bruce’s mouth almost water and he has to bite his tongue.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Bruce says after finally dragging his gaze up to Dick’s eyes instead of focusing on the way that water looks beaded on the other man’s dark nipples and clinging to the scant amount of dark body hair that is dashed across Dick’s chest. “I just have some work to do, Dick. I don’t have time to be distracted.”

Dick rolls his eyes and makes a rude noise with his lips pursed and pushed out. “I’d believe that if you weren’t on the same page that you were on when I went into the shower,” Dick says as he gestures at the papers closest to Bruce’s fingers, the papers that Bruce doesn’t even remember glancing at once in the past few minutes. “Seriously, Bruce, you  _can_  tell me what’s wrong.”

The corners of Dick’s mouth lift when he smiles at Bruce and he presses his left hand to his chest where he traces an invisible x-shape over his heart. “I swear, I won’t laugh.”

Bruce licks his lips, mind racing towards anything that he can say that will keep Dick from knowing the temptation he faces just by being so close to Dick. “Dick,” he starts to say, already grabbing on to a plausible-sounding fabrication. “I only wanted to--”

Dick leans in and covers Bruce’s mouth with one finger. “The truth would be nice, Bruce,” Dick says in a soft voice, bright blue eyes already brimming with hurt at Bruce’s attempts to lie by omission. “I said I wasn’t going to laugh.”

When Bruce stays silent, Dick shakes his head, muttering, “I knew this wasn’t going to work,” and then makes to pull away.

Bruce reaches out and grabs at Dick’s wrist before the other man can storm away. The skin of Dick’s wrist feels very tender in Bruce’s grip and he worries that he’s holding Dick too tightly. “I’m sorry,” Bruce says on an exhalation, focusing on Dick’s face instead of his skin and his frowning mouth. “I didn’t want to--”

Again, Dick cuts Bruce off and Bruce has to bite back an instinctive growl at that. “Didn’t want to what?” Dick asks, all but snarling the question as he shakes his head and scowls at Bruce. “If I’d known that you were going to act like this, I would have taken my shower upstairs. Seriously Bruce, why can’t you just… explain things once in a while?”

“I’m  _trying_ ,” Bruce breathes and then he just… gives in. He pulls Dick in close until the other man is standing in the space between his knees and just kisses him. It’s a fast kiss, chaste compared to the thoughts that Bruce has trying to ignore since far longer than it’s been permissible to lust after the other man, but a weight seems to lift off of Bruce’s shoulders for it.

Dick makes a noise into the kiss, letting out a breath of air that seems like it is forced out of his chest, and then he leans back, settling his hands on Bruce’s shoulders and using them as a brace. “Bruce? What did you do that for?” Dick asks, and the trembling in his voice is quite audible. “You kissed me and I’m not complaining, but --  _Why_?”

Bruce allows himself to touch Dick,  _really_  touch him, and his hands settle above the little scrap of towel at the younger man’s waist. He looks up at Dick and tries to convey the full depth of emotion that he feels. “Sometimes, I’m not very good at speaking my mind,” Bruce admits as he basks in the pleasure that comes from having Dick be this close and warm and content. “But I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

The small smile on Dick’s face says volumes, but the way that he inches closer until he’s almost kneeling in the chair in between Bruce’s spread legs says something else entirely. “In that case,” Dick says as he starts to rub at Bruce’s shoulders, “I think we have a lot to make up for.”

 


End file.
